Mothers
by gimmetheheadcanons
Summary: At Francine West's funeral, Iris is comforted by the only person with mother issues to match her own. [Iris Centric] [Published originally on Ao3 under theunapologeticnarrative]


_**A/N:**_ _We didn't get enough of Iris's perspective in S2A but I really thought we'd at least get to see her mother's funeral. This was my attempt at filling the blanks. Be sure to check out my Ao3 page and tumblr where this was posted originally in 2016_

 **Mothers**

"She would have loved it."

Iris West's eyebrows raised slightly at the comment from yet another middle-aged woman she did not know. They were kind words intending to comfort and remind a grieving daughter of her mother's love. Words meant to reassure Iris that the right choices were made for a funeral service she personally had no hand in organising.

"Thank you." She simply nodded.

She nodded the exact same way she did when Wally picked the flowers and compiled the guest list consisting of complete strangers such as the friendly curly haired old lady standing before her. She then smiled as she did when her father picked the music after hours of reminiscing over first dates, last dances and kisses in between, all to songs he shared with his late estranged wife. Again, she simply nodded when he selected a funky jam by Little Milton as the very final song he would play for _his Francine_. She watched from the side lines as both men, _together_ , decided on the venue – a modest looking church in Coast City where apparently Francine's weekly substance abuse support group was held at. And when it came to food, Wally _just knew_ it would have to be provided by _Auntie Anna's_.

Turns out that Auntie Anna wasn't just the name of a diner Iris never had heard of but also the owner and apparently a great personal friend to the Coast City branch of the West family.

"Man, you just know how much mom loved pies!"

The truth is Iris didn't know that or anything else about Francine for that matter and it was too late to find out. The entire funeral arrangement was one huge trip down memory lane, except with every funny anecdote or touching tale about the late Francine West, Iris was forced to confront the empty spaces in her own memories and the awful reasons behind them.

But the time to confront them was gone, just like her mother was. Instead Iris became trapped in endless conversations about a woman she barely knew with people who did.

People who had stories to share and memories to mourn over.

And so of course she smiled and nodded, agreeing Francine loved pie and all that funky music. She did it for them. _Smile, nod, repeat._ Until her face ached and reddened and her eyes became misty with bitter tears she felt she had no business shedding but felt burning at her eyes regardless.

"Oh there, there now child. It'll be okay." The lady promised, her voice low but sweet and sympathetic; she was instantly distraught at the pain on Iris's face.  
"Auntie Anna knows just how bad you must be feeling. We all miss her so very much, sweetheart"

 _Of course you all do!_ It took Iris everything she had not to vocalize that unrecognizable bitter thought. She felt the smile glued to her face slip and unable to nod now, the tension in her neck began choking her.

So, to the surprise to Auntie Anna and any mourner within an earshot of her, Iris began to laugh. She laughed and laughed, until she was a cackling ridiculous mess.

"Child-"

The tears were now finally falling, heavy and hard. With no sign of letting up, Iris excused herself before the confused woman could pull her into a suffocating embrace. Blurry eyed and terrified of being spotted by her father or brother, Iris opted to flee the building.

In her rush to escape Iris walked straight past Barry Allen who had been watching her with troubled green eyes from a distance. She felt his eyes on her the entire funeral, a frown forming on his face as she began looking increasingly more in distress after each encounter with the mourners in attendance.

But Iris couldn't face her best friend either. He called out to her and she kept going instead, her body suddenly shaking with the need for air. Once outside, Iris threw herself against a wall and drank in several deep breaths before focusing on drying her wet face and fixing her make, hopefully returning to some semblance of calm before Barry's inevitable arrival.

He didn't need to see her like this, not when she knew what burying his mother did to him.

"I'm okay." She whispered to herself with her eyes squeezed shut.

"No, you're not Iris."

The speedster's sudden but gentle touch on her shoulder told her she was too late and that her attempt to outrun the Flash was clearly laughable.

Yet she couldn't laugh anymore, tears were all Iris had left now.

"Iris, please know this is not supposed to feel okay."

"But I didn't even know her Barry." Iris turned to face her friend – the Hero – her lips barely closing before returning to angry sobs. Barry moved closer as if to embrace her, but the panic in Iris's eyes caused a moment of hesitation.

Instead, Iris was glad to see, Barry gave her the space she so desperately needed, remaining close by her side but at a comfortable distance. He stood where he stood for a while, simply watching over his best friend as she tried her best to breathe between her sobs.

It took what felt like an eternity for both of them, but finally the panic began to subside, and Barry moved closer, his right hand gently hoovering across her shoulders and back.

"I don't know what I am supposed to be doing or feeling Barry." Iris confessed in a fragile, unfamiliar, and uncertain voice. She looked for answers on Barry's face, but he had nothing to offer but an understanding, non-judgemental nod urging her to continue sharing her burdens.

"I want to be crying for her because I love her and miss her. Because she was my mom. But instead I'm crying because I don't know what I am supposed to be doing here. What to say or even how to act!"

"You _did_ love her, and you _do_ miss her Iris." Barry's voice was barely above a whisper, the opposite of Iris's loud desperate cries, yet carried so much more confidence, insisting on the truth of his words.

"She was your mother Iris, nothing can take that away from you. You are allowed to grief her."

"I didn't even know her!" Iris reminded him in a tone harder than she intended.

"I know." A simple response and nothing else from the speedster. Iris frowned as she examined Barry's face. There was a soft smile but no follow up. Finally, after a moment of frustration followed by one of reflection Iris finally bit the bullet and asked.

"So how can you miss someone you don't know?" Iris challenged him to make sense of the situation, so his words wouldn't be like the hollow words of every mourner she crossed paths with at the funeral today.

"How Barry? Because, it feels like a lie. These tears they're angry tears! Not sad ones. And they so feel insincere – "

"Compared to whose?" Barry interrupted her and for the first time sounded genuinely upset with her. Iris paused a moment and the question hung in the space between them. Glancing at random pieces of old trampled-on gum, stuck to the concrete slab under her black heels, Iris began attempting to form her answer.

"You know what I mean." But Barry's eyes wouldn't let up until she said out loud what she knew made no sense. "Compared to Wally. Compared Dad. And everyone else here."

She could hear Barry let out a sigh. The sound was more than familiar to her, a sigh often accompanied by an astonished stare, frustrated at her conclusion to punish herself. Iris knew that stare because she invented it, however, being on the other end of it for years meant Barry Allen _perfected it._ She continued to stare at the ground, determined to wait until the challenge from _the Look_ had passed.

"I'm her daughter Bear, and I feel like a stranger," she whispered not wanting to feel the shame she felt but feeling her lower lip quiver with it anyway. Barry slowly pulled her into his arms before she could clasp her hand over her mouth and smother her sobs. Iris didn't fight the embrace this time instead allowing herself to be buried into his warm chest and weep openly.

"You weren't a stranger, not to her Iris. She thought of you every day."

Iris let out a grateful laugh between her sobs. Again, a statement carrying so much certainty she couldn't help but almost believe it. What was it about Barry Allen that made her believe in things beyond her imagination? Was it because he was the living, breathing symbol of all things impossible to her and many thousands of others?

"She's your mother, so that's what she did," He repeated, and Iris knew it wasn't the Flash – the superhero slash symbol of hope – speaking; but Barry Allen, the smartest, kindest, bravest man she knew. Of all the people in Francine West's troubled life, it was the words of a man who had never even met her that made her daughter want to believe in their connection.

"And," he continued, "I _know_ you thought of her every day."

Barry slowly let go of her, ending their physical connection and Iris already missed him. He was standing in front of her, eyes full of warmth and all Iris could think about was the warmth of his breath on her cheeks and the way his words buried themselves into her ears with the promise of finding their rightful home in her heart.

She believed him - _unequivocally._ Always had.

 _Always will._

But Barry had more to say.

"I don't know my mother. Not really. Not anymore. But I talk to her all the time Iris anyway."

A look of slight surprise formed on Iris's face. "I didn't know you did that," she confessed, feeling a twinge of guilt right after because despite speaking the truth it felt like a lie on her lips. Everything about Barry Allen felt like the most obvious thing in the world to Iris West. Barry didn't need to tell her.

"I know it sounds nuts."

"No," She replied firmly "It doesn't."

"What do you talk about?"

Barry laughed before shrugging his shoulders. "Anything. I don't really go 'Hey mom how's it going? I'm doing fine.'"

Iris couldn't help giggle at Barry's ridiculous hand gesture mimicking an old-timey phone call to the heavens.

"I am just living my life Iris." A soft thoughtful look spread over Barry's face as he spoke, and Iris nodded. "Sort of internally narrating it as we all do, and I just feel that she's is there. Listening and watching. Not missing a single moment of it."

Tears were beginning to form in his eyes and Iris reached out to place her hand on his cheek.

"Not a single moment of your incredible life Barry Allen." She whispered feeling his pain as deeply as she felt her own. Connected once more, it was her turn to comfort him. Iris felt powerful, her touch almost siphoning the pain away until a large grin appeared on his face.

"Even the boring parts. Like cleaning the oven," Barry winked, and Iris laughed loudly, grateful to share a smile and playful shove with her best friend.

"Boy stop, you wouldn't know where to begin!"

Iris poked at him until there was an acquiescent shrug from Barry admitting defeat. They laughed and teased each other for a while almost forgetting where they were. That was until Barry spoke again.

"Now I know you must have done it too Iris. I mean you kept a diary ever since I have known you."

"Told my mother the story of my life?" Iris paused on that thought for a moment. The sudden way the conversation had returned to the topic of her mother meant she once more became lost in her overwhelming feelings surrounding their relationship. But this time, she focused on her memory of the constant voice in her own head and wondered if any of the things she whispered to herself were in reality meant for Francine West's ears. Iris wondered if her mother could hear them now as she asked herself these questions.

The truth was she didn't know the answer. So, who was to say Barry wasn't right? Iris did what she so often found herself doing when lost- close her eyes and fall back onto the memory of Barry Allen's words. He had spoken with all the confidence of a man who would easily bet his life on knowing the truth when it came to chaos that was Iris West's mind.

And, she reminded herself, his gambles _always_ paid off.

All but that one time…

 _That unexpected Christmas confession._

"Hey," Barry whispered with a twinge of regret in his voice. "Do you want me to get Joe or Wally?"

Iris was confused for a moment before realizing it had been sometime since she had last spoken. Barry scanned her face with concerned eyes and Iris could tell he was afraid he may have upset her again.

But it was the opposite. She felt loved and it was something she had almost forgotten after all the pain these last months had brought her. Starting with Eddie and ending with Francine. Barry knew her better than anyone else. _Maybe even better than she knew herself,_ Iris thought, thinking back to Christmas.

Finally, Iris shook her head in response to Barry's suggestion. "They're busy. Funerals are hard work. Food, guests, flowers."

"Yeah they are." Barry agreed with a relieved smile on his face. He took of his jacket and placed it on the church step before sitting down next to it.

"Do you know what I remember about my mother's funeral?"

Iris shook her head as she sat down next Barry, grateful for the protective layer he placed between her dark green midi dress and the cold concrete step.

"Purple irises." Barry answered with a soft thoughtful smile on his face.

"What?"

Noticing the confused look on her face, Barry continued. "Irises. I remember being told about them." He explained without looking at her.

Iris knew he was there again. That awful day, all those years ago.

"It hurt so much, being there without dad. Feeling everyone's eyes on me, whispering about him whenever they thought I couldn't hear."

"Feeling sorry for you." Iris added remembering the countless awkward interactions over the last few weeks of Francine's life.

Barry nodded. "Yeah, but I remember the sympathy feeling wrong and ugly."

Iris tried to not think back to her own memories of that day, but it was hard not to whenever she saw the continuing sorrow written all over Barry's face.

"I remember you were hiding under the table and I told dad because I was scared."

It was Barry's turn to look surprised at her words and she knew why. To Barry, Iris West feared no one, not the middle school bullies from way back then or metahumans of today.

But she was far from fearless.

"I was scared a stupid ten years old couldn't help you." Iris knew she couldn't find The Man in the Yellow Suit from Barry's nightmares or fight the grown-ups whispering in bad taste around them. But most of all what scared Iris all those years ago was that she didn't know exactly _how much_ she loved that broken little boy she played with; until she saw him under that table, curled up in a ball staring with angry eyes at a world that took everything from him.

"Do you remember what happened after Joe found me?"

Iris shook her head as she wiped now old tears from her face, afraid her eyes would betray her once more if she didn't.

"Joe found me under the table, but I refused to talk to him. So, he just sat with me for a little while."

Suddenly, what Iris did remember was how difficult it was for Barry to open to up to Joe in the first few months. It was crazy considering their bond now. Truth was, Barry had always been her friend, but Joe had to work damn hard to become his father.

"The table was covered in so many cards and flowers, and he was reading them quietly. I wanted him gone, but he wasn't leaving, and I knew I couldn't. Not with all those people still out there." It was so long ago, yet the bitterness felt just as fresh for the both of them. Iris glanced at the frown on Barry's face and then back at the church doors behind them. The people here were not the same as the gossipers at Nora Allen's funeral. They were undoubtedly kind and truly sad for Francine West's children, yet to Iris, it was just as suffocating.

"Then he randomly started talking about flowers."

Iris turned back towards Barry and Barry just chuckled at the perplexed look on her face.

"Yeah, you heard right! Joe talked to me about flowers. Irises to be specific."

"He said something about not knowing what I was going through, but he wanted me to believe in something other than what happened to my mom. And so, he told me about how people brought flowers to funerals to signify different things." Barry explained.

The Central City Picture News Reporter inside her was unable to hold back her many questions. "Why was he talking about irises specifically? What meaning do they hold?" She asked, and Barry answered with a smile, happy to indulge her with answers.

"So, Joe goes, apparently Iris was some sort of messenger on Olympus. She provided this link between Heaven and Earth. Also, she really digs rainbows."

Iris erupted into loud laughter and Barry joined her. Together they looked at the grey sky above them, playfully bumping shoulders at the ridiculous image of Detective Joe West telling a young Barry Allen about the hobbies of Greek deities. Iris watched Barry draw a cheesy cartoon of a rainbow and a flower lady in the air, his finger's incredible superhuman speed leaving a fleeting picture made up of traces of red lightning.

She clapped for him and giggled at the magic produced by the man of science.

"That is insane! I had no idea dad knew anything about flowers." Iris continued to giggle at the thought of her father, the secret florist reading up on Greek mythology.

"He _really_ didn't." Barry chuckled. "He said flowers were Francine's thing." His voice was suddenly low and serious. "And that purple irises were her favorite flowers." The laughter faded away and there was a sympathetic look on Barry's face as he spoke about her mother.

Iris felt an inexplicable pang of pain in her heart.

"It was her," She whispered working it out for herself. "She named me. And not just after dad's Great Aunt Iris."

"That makes sense." Barry nodded, and Iris quickly realized what that pain she felt was. Barry stared back at her knowing it too. She was crying again but this time it wasn't tears raging at the empty space in her life.

Barry moved in closer and looked her straight in the eyes as he spoke. "Joe told me it was okay to miss my mother every day. To love my father despite all the terrible things people were saying about him." Barry paused for a second to slowly slip his hand into Iris's. "And most importantly," he continued, squeezing her hand gently, "he told me it was okay to go play outside with you. Instead of being inside with people that made me feel uncomfortable."

Iris glanced back at the church. "We played tag instead of crying." Iris whispered, finishing Barry's story by remembering their favorite childhood game. "You were It."

Barry rolled his eyes dramatically. "Ugh I always was."

Iris smiled smugly at the memory of once upon a time being faster than the Flash.

"It must have looked strange, kids not crying at a funeral but playing in the garden. Not grieving or mourning someone the way people expect you to." Iris added but she knew the truth because Barry did cry. Later that night when they were alone, getting ready for bed; she held him as he held her today and cried with him.

"It wasn't wrong then Iris and it isn't wrong now." Barry promised, and she smiled knowing he was right.

"Let's get out of here Bear." She suggested, the pain on her face having completely faded away and replaced by the large curvature of a smile. Barry's face beamed back at her and together they got up from the uncomfortable steps they sat on for so long. He didn't ask her where they were headed and just held her hand as she led the way.

Iris looked up at the sky; it was still miserable and grey, the weather forecast that morning making it clear not to expect any sunshine anytime soon. But Iris West didn't mind, she was preoccupied with other thoughts.

Thoughts like how many times her mother must have walked here, sunshine or rain, to get to that support group. She would walk here, alone or with tiny baby Wally in tow, determined to not let him down as she had her baby girl.

Imagining Francine West, asking to be covered in and surrounded by the purple irises she loved so much, Iris West turned to Barry Allen. "How about we get some pie. Not from here but back in Central City. I wonder if our pie is just as good as Auntie Anna's."

"Who is Auntie Anna?" Barry asked persuaded by the prospect of home and pie but slightly confused by the stranger Iris spoke of. Before Iris could answer, the downpour predicted by the weather lady began and Barry sped them out of the rain. Mostly dry, they stood nose to nose cramped under a tree. Iris let her forehead rest on Barry's shoulder and closed her eyes for a moment. She felt his arms around her and she relaxed, taking in his comforting familiar scent. "My mom's friend."

"Well let's get some now." Barry insisted and his eagerness to make Iris happy was enough to make her glow. She looked up into his green eyes and shook her head gently before whispering, "No, I think she's someone to visit when it stops raining."

"Take us home Flash."


End file.
